


nostalgia

by softnow



Category: The X-Files
Genre: F/M, Fictober, blowjobs on her childhood bed, ish, nbd, season 7, you know
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-04
Updated: 2018-10-04
Packaged: 2019-07-25 00:07:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 718
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16186013
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/softnow/pseuds/softnow
Summary: if walls could talk...





	nostalgia

**Author's Note:**

> fictober day 3!

He is going—oh good god—he is going straight to hell. There’s no way around it. Because Dana Scully is on her knees in her childhood bedroom sucking him stupid. And he fucking asked for it.

“Scully, shit, oh my god, baby, you gotta—you gotta—you can't—” His hips twitch helplessly and he fists her high school bedspread so tight his knuckles ache. “What about—oh my god—your mom, you gotta—”

The sound of her coming off his cock, slick with a little  _pop_  at the end, needs to be fucking illegal.

“Mulder.” She nuzzles his hip, slides down and drags her tongue over his sac. “Don’t talk about my mom right now.”

He didn’t think she’d do it. Honestly, he didn’t. It was just a joke, an off-the-cuff comment, meaningless. What lascivious things did young Dana Scully get up to in this room in her little plaid skirt?

“Wanna see?” she’d purred, rubbing her face against his neck, and he—god help him—he’d said yes.

“Scully, honestly, we really shouldn't—”

She flicks his frenulum with the tip of her little kitten tongue and he can’t help it. He bucks, thrusts the head of his cock against her cheek, paints her with a sticky stripe of his pre-cum. She blinks once, slowly, feral. Then she lowers her head.

“Wanna stop?” she asks, her mouth pressed against the root of him, and he can feel her words in his spine.

Does he—does he want to  _stop_? He  _should_  stop. He really should. Mrs. Scully—"Call me Maggie, Fox, please,“ she’d insisted when they’d arrived, but he’s not even going to be allowed to  _think_  her name if she finds out what he’s doing with her daughter in her house—Mrs. Scully’s right downstairs.

But oh my god Dana Scully is on her  _knees_  in her  _childhood bedroom_  with his  _pre-cum on her face_ and there’s no fucking way he’s stopping. His cock throbs, angry-red against her porcelain cheek where she lays it, rubs against it.

"Hmm?” she asks, dragging her nails down his thigh.

“No,” he gasps, fighting the urge to grab her by the hair and investigate her tonsils. “No, please, god, baby.”

She laps at him, open-mouthed and hungry. Her eyes stay locked with his and he wonders, distantly, if she’s been a succubus this whole time or if this is a recent development.

“You sure? We could stop…” She squeezes him in her hot little fist and kisses him sweetly— _so fucking sweetly_ —on the very tip.

“I swear to god.” He laughs, because if he doesn’t laugh, he might cry, he needs her so bad. “If you stop now, I'll—”

“You’ll?” Her hand tightens and she jerks him once, twice. “Punish me? Fuck me right here on the floor?”

“Jesus,  _fuck_ , Scully, oh my  _god_.” He reaches for her because he can’t not touch her any longer, because she’s never talked to him like that and he doesn’t know what to do with how much he fucking  _likes_   _it_.

She twines the fingers of her free hand with his and squeezes as she swirls her tongue around the swollen head of his cock. He groans. Her mouth is the  _hottest_  thing. Her lips slide down and he nudges her soft palette and that's—oh god, oh fuck—that’s  _it_.

His hips jerk and he falls back against the mattress as he empties into her, groaning as she swallows him down. When she hums a little  _mm-hmm_  around him, he’s certain he feels his brain liquefy and slide right out his ears.

Dana Scully.

_Christ_.

She cleans him gently with that evil little tongue then crawls up onto the bed beside him and nuzzles her nose into his cheek. He laughs, breathless, and wraps her in his arms.

“Shit, Scully.” He kisses her temple. “How’d you ever leave any survivors after that?”

“Oh, I’m sorry.”

She sits up on her elbows and smirks. Her hand disappears down her body and returns tangy-wet and shiny. She smears her fingers over his lips, pushes two inside. He gapes at her, stupid with pleasure, as she leans in and kisses him, thrusts her tongue between her fingers. Then she trails her mouth down to his ear.

“That’s what I made them do to  _me_.”


End file.
